Freewrite Drabbles
by Ari the Dodecahedron
Summary: English class. Occasional freewrites for ten minutes. What does it become for a phan? The perfect time to write a phanfic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: We had our first freewrite in English today. I've created rules for myself. One, every freewrite will be dedicated to Phantom. Two, they will all be posted. Three, they won't be edited, only typed exactly as written. Four, it must be written entirely in the ten minutes of class I have to write. **

**In this, Christine is eleven. This might continue for a few more drabbles. **

Erik POV:

Watching, waiting.

I see her walking by. I urge myself- grab her. She knows that I have been trying to pick a day to bring her to my lair, but I can't. Not when she hasn't even seen the mask...

I move through the rafters, grabbing the handrails to avoid tripping. Christine's voice has improved drastically over the past month. She is far better than that arrogant diva already.

I return to my lair, deciding that I will at least let her see the mask tonight.

Christine POV:

Three hours of dance, two of blocking. I still have to rehearse with my angel, as well. He left me a note under my pillow- I am to meet him onstage tonight.

As I arrive, I see something center stage. I approach it, lifting it carefully. A white porcelain mask.

It can't be...

My angel...

He isn't-

"Now sing this song with me, our strange duet."

I freeze. "Who is there?"

"My power over you grows stronger yet."

I lunge for the door, but I feel something close around my wrist.

"And though you turn from me to glance behind..."

I spin slowly, looking up at the mask.

"The Phantom of the Opera is here..."

"Inside my mind."


	2. Chapter 2

Christine is eleven. I no own.

Erik POV:

I lead her down to the lair, resisting her attempts to pull away. She freezes, however, when we reach the shores of the lake.

"No...no!"

"What, Christine?"

She looks at me, fear in her eyes. "I can't swim."

"There is no need. I have a boat."

"But if it tips?"

I look down at the child. "You must overcome the fear someday, Christine. Now would be as good a time as ever."

"Not when I'm this tired. Please, Angel."

I stand there, shocked. She has seen the mask, she knows I am her teacher. "Angel" was a guise I put on for her, so she could become the girl she had the potential to be.

Yet she still calls me "Angel," not "Phantom."

"Please."

Her begging snaps me out of my reverie. I nod, lifting her into my arms. "I will come on Sunday afternoons, then. You may return to the Opera House that night."

She smiles. "Thank you, Angel."

Maybe there is some hope for me yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Erik POV:

When I arrive behind Christine's mirror in the dormitories on Sunday afternoon, I pull back the curtain to see her. She is racing around,tying her hair back and pulling on a nice dress (not a church dress, however; she went at nine in the morning).

"I am your Angel of Music," I call softly.

She spins around, staring. "Angel?"

"Meet me in the third cellar in ten minutes. Say you are doing a favor for Madame Giry."

"Yes, Angel."

She runs off, and I touch my throat. Projecting my voice through a wall used to be no challenge at all, but my voice is not what it once was.

I race through the corridors, disarming all of the traps I have in place. I arrive with a minute to spare, however, and I am ready when Christine arrives.

"I am your Angel of Music," I sing.

"Come to me, Angel of Music," Christine responds.

I step out, offering her my right hand. She takes it, and I lead her willingly through the tunnels to my lair.


	4. Chapter 4

I climb into the boat, unsure of myself.

"No," he responds. "Out. Not if you are scared." I nod, and he helps me. "Now, one foot in the water." I oblige, finding a small step. "That is one third of the depth already."

I look at him, refusing to make eye contact. "Angel?"

"It is true. As long as you don't fall, nothing bad will happen. And if you did, I would catch you in a second."

"Alright, Angel." I climb back in, more surefooted.

"Good." _He is inside my head._ I whirl around, but he rests his hand on my shoulder.

"We will practice when we arrive. For now, I suggest you prepare your voice."

I nod, vocalizing slightly. Suddenly, his voice comes back to my mind. "Sing."

I oblige, humming a melody. Slowly, words present themselves.

I sing him a song of my own creation.


End file.
